


Birthday Party

by lucian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-27
Updated: 2009-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10137104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucian/pseuds/lucian
Summary: Harry gives Severus a birthday he can enjoy.





	

The first time it happened, Severus apparated downstairs in a blind panic to discover the _Weird Sisters_ blasting loud enough to make the windows rattle and Harry singing into a wooden spoon in the middle of the kitchen, his shirt covered in flour. 

Now Severus always casts a silencing charm when it's Harry's turn to make dinner and thinks about the pile of dirty dishes that await him when Potter is done destroying the kitchen.  
Then he thinks about the young man who cooks because he _wants_ to, not because he _has_ to - not any more.  
A pile of dishes seems a small price to pay for Harry's happiness. 

 

He leans back into the softness of the overstuffed chair, marks his place on the page with an elegant finger and gazes into the fire.  
It's hard, in these perfect moments, to regret the past. It's easy to remember the pain, almost as vivid as the day it happened; it's easy to remember the endless despair.  
It's even easier, now, to know what happiness is and to never take one single, perfect moment for granted.  
And Severus does not, even when it's difficult. 

He tuns the page and notices several wrinkles in his shirt sleeve. He could spell them out, but he doesn't care to. 

_Harry dropped the basket of clean clothes on the floor and launched into an impassioned re-telling of the just-seen Quidditch match, making wildly sweeping gestures and acting out the entire match as only a true lover of Quidditch could do. Though Severus didn't give a Kneazle's knees about Quidditch, he smiled fondly and made encouraging noises in all the right places. He could happily watch Harry's enthusiasm for hours._

So what if the laundry wasn't hung up before it wrinkled? Severus knew he wouldn't die wishing his shirts had been ironed. 

He smiles the heart-felt smile he only allows himself in private, closes his eyes, and rests his head against the chair. The fire is warm, the book is perfectly heavy, and he can still taste Harry on his lips.  
Severus Snape could ask for nothing else.

* * * * *

Severus has his wand in hand and aimed before he even realizes he's awake. He does not - well, _rarely_ \- panic, not after years at the Dark Lord's side.

He is well-prepared for endless pain and death, though it appears that what has woken him is the appearance of a silver tray that holds a dish of chocolate-dipped peanuts, a crystal glass, and an ice-filled bucket cradling the bottle of champagne he has been saving for a special occasion. 

Ah, yes. Those mythical, ninja-like spheres of peanut-filled decadence were about to rise _en masse_ and pelt him into unconsciousness while the sadistic champagne would take maniacal pleasure in carving his heart out with the glass.

Severus rolls his eyes and puts his wand away. 

A rolled parchment is tucked between the champagne bucket and the dish of chocolate; an emerald-green ribbon binds it, draping carelessly - _seductively_ \- over the edge of the intricately carved tray. 

He sets his book aside and unrolls the parchment.

_Come downstairs in ten minutes.  
There's a Disillusionment charm concealing the foyer.  
Bring the champagne. _

_H._

Severus raises an eyebrow with just a hint of interest.

* * * * *

Bottle in one hand, glass in the other: Severus slips silently down the stairs, a habit ingrained after years of trying to stay alive in Voldemort's court.

Noise crashes into him as his bare foot steps off the final stair and his hand is halfway to his wand before the heart-stopping sound coalesces into individual voices: Weasley (multiple), Minerva, Molly, Arthur, Harry. 

_Harry._ Safe and happy and laughing. 

He hates these moments when the years of fear rear up and devour him; when he is absolutely certain that Voldemort and the Death Eaters have returned to take everything away from him - _everything he knows he doesn't deserve_ \- and he will be forced to watch Harry scream as Voldemort flays him alive.

Severus closes his eyes and breathes slowly, evenly, deliberately. He just crossed through a Silencing charm, that's all. He takes a drink of the cool champagne, briefly wishing it was something stronger, and takes another step forward. 

His sitting room is filled with people: Granger and Weasley, Arthur, Molly, Fred and George, Minerva, Bill and Charlie. Maybe not filled, but more filled than he likes. 

"Okay, okay, everybody!" Harry cries from his perch on a particularly high bar stool on the far side of the room. He is a bit wobbly and his glass of wine nearly spills. 

"As you well know, we are all here to celebrate Severus' forty-seventh birthday!" 

Raucous cheering fills the room. 

"And as you also well know, Severus hates people _and_ cake _and_ parties - _especially_ those thrown in his honour - so he will not be joining us tonight." 

Disappointed cries and not-well-contained laughter from Minerva, Molly, and Arthur. Snickering murmurs about the debacle of the ceremony to award Severus an Order of Merlin that he did not deign to attend. 

"Instead, we will have cake on his behalf, celebrating the man who would truly rather be left alone to enjoy his favourite dinner, a bottle of expensive champagne - that I'm fairly sure I'm going to get in trouble for opening - and the newest issue of Potions Monthly; the idiocy of which he will be utterly thrilled to spend the next several hours cursing at with a vocabulary I will never be able to match."

Pure laughter rang out. 

"And after you are all gone, I will take him his own dessert, consisting primarily of birthday cake icing, my mouth, and his naked body!" 

"Oi!" shout the Weasley boys, and the twins mime being sick into the laps of those next to them while generally making a ruckus. 

"To Severus!" Harry cries, raising his glass and nearly falling off the stool. "To his scathing wit, his unattainable standards of perfection and his complete self-reliance!" 

"To Severus!" ring out a roomful of voices, glasses and bottles raised in the air. 

"To Professor Snape!" Fred and George crow, glasses high and splattering their neighbours. "For selling us potions at cut rates and making _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_ the most successful - _and profitable!_ \- shop in Diagon Alley!" 

_Maybe I should start charging them full price,_ Severus muses, leaning against the wall and crossing his ankles. He pours another glass of champagne. 

"To Severus!" Charlie says, the blush of alcohol and faint embarrassment colouring his cheeks, "The only person in the world scarier than a Hungarian Horntail!" 

Laughter fills the room, and Ron punches his older brother. 

"To Severus," Molly says softly, her eyes glistening, "who made my Harry happy." Arthur smiles at her and the girls coo and the boys groan and Harry looks wistfully for a long moment at the seemingly empty stairwell. 

Then Arthur says, in his quiet and strong voice, "To Severus Snape and his fierce loyalty, ungrudging self-sacrifice, and unwavering courage under the most difficult situation imaginable. He is an inspiration." 

Muted murmurs of "Severus". Glasses raise. 

Bill, his voice gruff since Greyback: "In hospital, I thought of him every time I wanted to give up. He faced every day knowing he could die for a single, youthful mistake. All I had to do was face my own insecurities." 

A long, thoughtful pause, and Molly begins to weep. Glasses raise in silence. 

"To Severus," Minerva's voice trembles, her own eyes wet, "who has a lifetime of happiness to catch up on." 

Quiet and heartfelt murmurs. Molly smiles through her tears. "To Severus!" 

Hermione raises her glass. "To Professor Snape, for teaching us not to judge a book by its cover. I am ashamed that I ever doubted him." 

Sheepish looks and raised glasses. Harry looks straight at Snape as though the disillusionment charm isn't there, apology still in his eyes. 

The silence stretches long and hard this time before Ron blurts out, "To Professor Snape, who, uh, could be a whole lot meaner when 'Mione and I come over for dinner. Yeah, and cause my best mate's happy." Ron stares into his lager and Hermione wraps her arms around him. 

"Aw, little Ronnikins!" the twins crow as they scruff his hair. 

Ron flails. "Gerroff!" 

And when the scuffle dies down, Harry speaks again. 

"To Severus Snape, who inspires me to be better in everything I do, because I always imagine him over my shoulder with some sarcastic comment about my ineptitude and laziness and I know that he would be able do it perfectly while _still_ having enough brain left over to run a scathing commentary about my intelligence and ability the entire time." 

And over the din of cheers and laughter, Harry cries, "Who wants cake?"

* * * * *

Dinner is waiting in the study beside the newest issue of Potions Monthly. Gaudily wrapped packages look as though they've been unceremoniously spilled across the desk; one is teetering precariously on the edge and another is nearly in his dinner.

The only one that catches his eye is a parchment tied with emerald green ribbon. He ignores the decadent smell of barbecue for the moment and unrolls the parchment. 

A photograph falls out. He does not look, not yet. 

_  
Severus,_

 __You've talked about this for years.  
I thought it was finally time.  
I have chartered a small yacht for a month.  
The captain will teach us to sail.  
And if you love it as much as I know you will ~  
well, I may have found a beautiful yacht in need of some love.  
Well, a lot of love.  
Okay, all the love we can give.  
But she's beautiful.  
And I bought her. 

Happy Birthday. 

Harry 

 

Severus stares at the curling parchment for an impossibly long time before suddenly remembering the photograph. 

It's _her._

Her stays are rusting, her sails rotting, her masts a bit bent, her brightwork crumbling, and mold is streaking down her sides. 

The lines of her hull, though - her lines are breathtaking. She is sensual and warm; strong and determined. 

She is everything he'd ever imagined. 

Severus Snape trembles and holds tightly to the desk.

* * * * *

Harry slips unsteadily through the door, and Severus, lounging languidly across the bed, gives him a smouldering look and crooks a finger at him.

Harry smiles and saunters over, straddling Severus' thighs wantonly. 

"I've always wanted to throw you a party, but I know you hate them. Do you know how hard it is to make you feel loved in a way that makes me feel like I've actually _done_ something for you? A book, an ingredient, music - I would find those things for you _every day_. It never takes a special occasion. And when a special occasion comes, I'm left with nothing." 

Severus pulled Harry close. "You did it perfectly." 

"Did you like my gift?" 

Severus closed his eyes and stroked Harry's hair. "I ... I could never have dreamed you would do that." 

"I love you." 

Harry kisses him with all the love he has ever felt and Severus drowns in unrestrained emotion, kissing the slight form sprawled against him, kissing the taut skin and wine-sweet lips with everything he has, with all the words he can never say, every feeling he has ever known; kisses him and touches him and Harry writhes impatiently against him and banishes their clothes. 

Severus grabs a phial from the night stand and reaches between them to slick Harry's entrance. He plays with the tightness for a while as Harry moans and whispers unintelligibly until he finally whimpers _please_ , then Severus pulls away and coats his cock. Harry bites his lip and looks at him with liquid emerald eyes as he sinks down slowly, _excruciatingly_ slowly, and Severus digs his fingers into Harry's hips in an effort not to pull him down hard. 

_"Wait,"_ Harry whispers, pulling up for just a moment, and Severus begins to believe it might _actually_ be possible to die from need. Harry sinks down again and Severus grinds his teeth with the effort of not moving. Then the thick head of his cock slips through the tight muscles as Harry sighs, and when Severus slams in the rest of the way - just _this_ side of brutal - Harry throws his head back and keens. 

The tight, wet heat grips him and Severus holds Harry's slender waist tightly as he thrusts a few times. Harry is gasping and moaning and babbling about Salazar-knows-what. 

He runs his hands over Harry's smooth chest as Harry starts to ride him, writhing like a snake; Severus's fingers play over the rippling stomach muscles as Harry's lithe, young body rocks above him. Severus pinches Harry's hardened nipples and those brilliant green eyes roll back; those soft, pink, wet, _fuckable_ lips part as he moans. 

Harry drops down and holds himself up on his hands, giving Severus that wide-eyed, innocent look that he can never, ever refuse because he's a ruthless (ex) Death Eater and Harry knows that no matter what side he ended up on, Severus has a weakness for destroying innocence. 

"Fuck me, Severus," he murmurs against Snape's lips, "Fuck me, use me, hurt me, god, _please_ \- " 

Snape snarls and crushes Harry tightly against him and thrusts hard, deep, fast and Harry howls with the intensity as Severus fucks him mercilessly. 

"Oh god, _Severus!_ I'm going to - oh _god! I'm gonna, I'm gonna - "_ and Harry cries out as slickness spreads between them. Severus holds Harry tightly enough to bruise, slamming into him violently. Harry lets out a sound that's purely pain and Severus comes with a snarl.

* * * * *

"It's going to take a long time," Harry murmurs into the darkness, his arms and legs tangled around Severus. "She needs more than we can afford, really, if I'm honest. But ... but it was right. Buying her, I mean. No one else saw her beauty, but I did. And it might take a long time before anyone else does either, but they will, if we love her the way she deserves."

Severus looks at the ceiling, his mind swaying on the deck, looking out at the endless openness, the endless _possibility_ ; the pure, blank slate of his future. 

"How long?" 

"She's rusty and filthy and even the masts need replacing. Maybe ... " Harry hesitates. He knows Severus fears the passing of time, especially after all the time he's lost. "Maybe eight years, if we're frugal." 

Eight years. As long as it has taken for his relationship with Harry to finally even out. Eight years of building something good from scratch, something neither of them knew anything about. Eight years of failing, apologizing, and trying again. Eight years of knowing it was worth it. 

Severus smiles in the darkness. "I spent twenty years without dreams. Doesn't seem like all that long to wait." 

"That's what I thought," Harry murmurs, and clutches Severus to him as they drift off to sleep.


End file.
